


The Heart's Ballad

by AllTheLokisWelcome7



Series: Unspoken [1]
Category: Kingdom Hearts
Genre: Demyx wants what's best for Zexion, Desire to be treated as an adult, Fluff, Instead of the usual emotional stuff, Lexaeus is supportive, Literal Sleeping Together, Literal hurt and comfort, M/M, Music to communicate, Saïx is surprisingly helpful, Vexen is a stern parent, infantilization, mild blood warning
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-14
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-10-10 03:28:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17418188
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllTheLokisWelcome7/pseuds/AllTheLokisWelcome7
Summary: Demyx was a special case. Instead of losing his heart when he was swallowed by darkness, he lost his voice. So he turned his thoughts into music, playing what his heart commanded. These facts hold Zexion's attention for longer than is ideal.





	The Heart's Ballad

Demyx was a special case. He hadn't lost his heart when he was swallowed by darkness, but his voice. So he turned his thoughts into music, and played what he felt, eyes closed in bliss or concentration.

Voiceless songs could be heard at all hours of the day, and they were always different, ever-changing. Usually they were cheerful and bright. Sometimes, though, they were sombre and slow. No one poked fun at him on those days, when some thought they had the faintest stirring of emotion. 

One day, he learned that he could create faceless figures made from water and his music, and he'd played with his eyes open for months afterwards. 

The figures always matched the song, even when he wasn't thinking about it. They would twirl and leap uniformly to tunes that rose and fell in waves, and dance hand in hand to jigs and waltzes.

Zexion had taken to observing him, listening to the stories in the tunes and watching the plays. He was particularly fond of the ballads, where Demyx's lips moved silently to the lyrics and the figures acted out the story in his stead. Occasionally, the musician's expression would change and he'd close his eyes, unwilling to watch his creations make an empty mockery of his art. After a time of listening to his notes however, whatever was troubling him would pass, and his features would smooth out peacefully. Zexion grew to yearn for these moments.

~ ~ ~

“Don't be so foolish, boy!” Vexen had scolded when he'd confided his desires to his laboratory partners. “You don't have a heart left! What makes Number IX worth you losing focus, anyway?”

Zexion said nothing, words escaping him. He did not know how to defend his thoughts.

“Be quiet, Vexen.” Lexaeus spoke in his stead, scowling. “You should be pleased that Zexion is seeking other interests. Or, in your words, other avenues of research.”

Vexen fixed him with a heated glare so contrary to his nature, lips pursed in a hard line. After a few moments of thought, however, he conceded.

“Very well, perhaps you are correct. There should be no harm in the boy learning to take notes from a live specimen, _provided_ it does not interfere with how he responds to our tasks.” As though it had never been there, his glare snapped to indifferent and calculating as his eyes slid to Zexion's. “Is that clear?”

“Perfectly.”

“Good. Carry on.”

Zexion released the breath he had been holding, straightening his shoulders and resuming his work. He forcibly cast aside the resentment shadowing his heart at the reminder that Vexen still saw him as the child from ten years ago. It was unclear to him whether the frequent infantilization was the result of nostalgia, apathy, or denial. Perhaps it was a mix of all three, but he didn't care to learn the answer. He was an adult now, and whether or not that was acknowledged, it was a fact.

~ ~ ~

Demyx caught the grey-haired man watching him perform sometimes. At first it was unsettling, the strings catching at his fingertips and the tempo faltering. Unlike the others, the way he observed him was so intent; truly focusing on what he was doing, rather than absently listening to something that took the edge off of the day's monotony. Demyx offered him a nervous smile and tried to ignore him, eyes returning to his song. It was obvious that the tone of it changed, shifting from swift and fluid to something riddled with insecurities. Sometimes, he wondered why he played exactly how he felt, rather than just following on from an earlier piece. Finally, Zexion looked away, and the song slowly lost its tension.

Once it had grown into a regular occurrence, Demyx began playing lighter tunes, gentle and carefree in all the ways he was. Sometimes, he would even try something new to impress him. Whenever he was rewarded with a smile instead of a smirk or a neutral pout, the music soared and swelled along with his heart. Zexion tried to smile more often around him, an empty ache in his chest longing for the twinges of bliss those moments gave him. 

Demyx would never forget the day things changed. His song had been slow, almost mournful for most of the day, and he was the only one left in the Grey Area. Everyone had retired for the night, but Zexion had not yet returned from his mission. Suddenly, the air changed, swirling and heavy at the creation of a portal. Eyes wandering up to it reflexively, he saw Zexion stumble through it. There was a long cut along his cheek, and he was shaking badly. Demyx cast aside his instrument as gently as he could, leaping to his feet and rushing to his aid. He reached him the moment before he fell, arms wrapping around him to hold him upright. Taking extra care, he led him to the nearest lounge, urging him to lie down. With an arm beneath his shoulders, he supported his head in his lap. Bangs fell to the side as Zexion's head lolled towards the side of the couch, and two cobalt eyes blinked blearily up at him. 

_Hey, you're gonna be okay! I'm here to help!_ he desperately wanted to say. This would be a bad time to attempt to speak with his hands, when so much was at stake: he didn't trust that he'd be understood in a hurry. 

Willing his water beings into existence without the conduit of music hurt, a lot, but time was of the essence. He held a potion in front of his face and, after making sure Zexion knew what his intentions were, he pointed to the tiny figures in his other hand. They reenacted searching the body for wounds and tending them. Zexion nodded, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. Despite his weary state, he felt safe. Besides, there was nothing that Demyx could do to him that would make the pain worse, and if there was, he knew he wouldn't mind it. 

Relieved at the permission, Demyx carefully substituted a cushion for his lap, helping Zexion out of his coat and gloves. From what he could see, the wounds weren't life-threatening, and for that he was grateful. Bruises and shallow cuts matching the one on his cheek littered his arms. He quickly rinsed and applied the salve to them, before taking off his boots and checking his legs. Darker bruises and some swelling had formed, explaining the limping from earlier, but would heal quickly. A bruise on his collarbone, peeking out from under his tank top, suggested an impact to the chest, and he was instantly worried again. Willing his hands to stop shaking as they reached his sides, he carefully ran them along his ribs. No sharp inhales of pain, so nothing broken. The relief was almost overwhelming, but he still had a job to do. Checking his vitals and mobility yielded promising results, so he finally allowed himself to relax. 

As he didn't want to cause unnecessary pain, he didn't put his shed clothes back on him. Instead, he draped his coat over him like a blanket, adding his own to it so that his feet wouldn't get cold. This time, he replaced the cushion, lap supporting his head once more. He stroked blood-streaked hair out of tired eyes and gazed down at his face, his own set in reassurance. When he was sure that there was focus in the other's stare, he mouthed “rest”. Again Zexion nodded, eyes drifting closed, and had soon fallen asleep. 

Demyx watched him for a time, keeping an eye on his breathing and ensuring he was comfortable. It was late in the morning before he finally fell asleep, not caring that Saïx would be there to disturb them with mission reports in a few hours. 

~ ~ ~

Zexion awoke to silence broken only by soft breaths. He kept his eyes closed to identify his surroundings first. Pain spread everywhere, but the dull throb suggested healing. He was lying on his back, the position unusual: it often gave him a sense of unease, remaining from the vulnerability of childhood. At the moment, however, it was comfortable. Warmth behind his head, and crusty hair clinging to his face. Next, he expanded his senses to include his strongest one. All around him was the scent of his own blood and sweat, the fragrant but not unpleasant scent of potions, and the beach. Truly not the worst awakening he'd ever experienced, although the blood was distasteful. Finally, he opened his eyes, staring up at the face looming over his.

There were bags just forming under Demyx's eyes, indicating that he had not long fallen asleep. He remained in an upright position, clearly determined to give Zexion the most comfort of the two. It was... sweet, he decided. Endearing. But he refused to let this compassionate soul hurt himself in this way. Taking every liberty to ensure that he did not disturb him, he turned onto his knees, ignoring the pain as he gently shifted Demyx along the back of the couch until he was lying down. 

Almost as soon as he began to move away, a hand moved swiftly, forming a child's anxious grip on his wrist. Checking that Demyx was truly still asleep, he carefully lay on top of him, finding a way to get comfortable before closing his eyes again. 

Not ten minutes later, they opened again to glare at Saïx, who had just come in and was observing them flatly. His stare did not leave his face as the scene was examined, sharp eyes and nose interpreting the blood everywhere. Finally, he nodded once, slow footfalls blessedly soft as he walked to the furthest corner of the room. Zexion decided that more sleep would be for the best. 

~ ~ ~ 

Demyx awoke first, but only by moments. Just long enough to briefly freak out over nothing being in the same place as when he had fallen asleep. This smoothed over quickly when he realised the deliberate care that had been put into his new position, staring down at the warm body pressed against his chest. 

_This is... nice._

He relaxed once more, yawning. When his vision returned from the forced absence, a pair of cobalt met his green, and their faces broke into matching smiles: sweet, secretive, and pleased. 

“Feeling better?” he mouthed, hand moving to check his temperature. 

Zexion gave an affirmative hum, a single note, eyes remaining half-lidded as he held the inquisitive gaze and tilted his head slightly until that hand was pressed against his uninjured cheek. The quiet warmth was oddly satisfying. 

Demyx's face lit up with relief and joy, his thumb caressing his cheekbone absently. But as with everything, the moment couldn't last. 

They were thrown out of the haze of each other's warmth by a shrill voice demanding explanations. Demyx began panicking again, trying to sit up, but Zexion rolled his eyes at the intrusion and made no move to get up. He may even have held him tighter, but Demyx wasn't sure if that was just his tightened chest. He was also having trouble determining whether or not either outcome was deliberate. 

Before the harsh voice could get close enough to hurt, however, a brief flash of blue intercepted it, steering it away professionally. Demyx craned his neck uncomfortably to peer past the armrest at them, a mildly successful attempt which he quickly abandoned. Despite the hushed tones, however, they could both hear exactly what was being discussed. 

“It would be wise to keep your voice down, Vexen. We have yet to adequately examine your boy, but it was not any fault of the other youngster. Until we are informed of the details, however, it is safe to assume that his condition has improved because of him. I would have thought your work required the utmost care when collecting information.” Saïx's voice was as low, threatening and level as it always was, and his words appeared to take effect. 

“Sometimes, I worry that the boy can do nothing on his own. He is simply brilliant, and I dare not entertain the notion that that could be taken away from him so easily. He has been distracted of late, and I suspect hormones to be the cause.” 

Zexion glared at the couch in the direction of the voice. Darkness may have slowed his ageing process to a frustrating degree, but it did not make him any less of an adult, and hormones had nothing to do with it. He opened his mouth as if to argue, but Demyx took his hand, face openly worried. Frowning, Zexion curled his fingers around it and tried to sink into the warmth again. 

“No matter the extent of his abilities or the cause, something happened on his mission yesterday. When he is ready to return to the field, we will ensure he always has a partner. Our numbers are still too few as it is.” 

“...I suppose I must thank you for that, VII. However, as his guardian, I will not permit you to send him off until he has recovered completely and his mind is able to remain on task once more.” 

“I would not suggest otherwise.” 

Finally, the two stopped arguing, Vexen striding towards the hallway and scowling with a mockery of concern at the adolescents. The look in his eyes angrily whispered “you had better wisen up, boy.” He left as suddenly as he'd arrived. 

Zexion pointedly ignored him, and everyone else who came in afterwards. He was too tired to care about Xigbar trying to get a rise out of them, although his crude comment made Demyx turn an interesting shade of red and his body temperature felt almost scalding through bare skin. Truly, it was fascinating, and once he had recovered, he would have to study this phenomenon. Lexaeus gave him an encouraging smile, his body language subtly exuding pride and well-wishes, and Zexion smiled brightly in return. 

He made no move to get up until everyone was where they were supposed to be for the day, and his stomach growled incessantly. He sat up with a bothered sigh, moving to a part of the lounge where Demyx's shins were not digging into him now. Demyx stretched, sitting up and patting himself down as though looking for something. Suddenly, his face lit up, and he picked up his coat from the pile it had fallen in, digging through his pockets for a card and pen. Scrawling as neatly as he could manage, he handed it to Zexion. 

“I'm gonna get you something to eat, okay? Would you like to explain what happened later?” 

Zexion grinned fiercely, something resembling a smirk with teeth. “Only if you'll play for me and let me sing it to you.” 

Demyx went pink from his cheeks to his ears, shoulders shaking slightly with nervous, silent laughter as a goofy grin spread across his face. He took the card again gingerly, writing on the clean side. 

“That sounds good. I'd love to hear you!” With that, he strode happily towards the kitchen, a bounce in his step. 

Zexion stared down at the card, his smile becoming as soft and gentle as the writing. _Love, huh?_

 


End file.
